When it comes to airing out my laundry, I’d rather rejoice than grieve. I like sending the Good Things list because it makes me happy and I know it makes you happy, too. But I don’t like talking about the bad stuff. I’d rather not think about it myself, much less share it with anyone else.
This week, I got a lot of bad news. A close friend’s dad died on Thanksgiving Day, a grandma who isn’t related but may as well be died a few days later, and my own grandma was admitted into the hospital, again. It didn’t hit me until Tuesday night, after I’d let go of the freelance project that ate my Thanksgiving weekend, when I finally had time to breathe. And think.
Each event affected me deeply for different reasons. My grandma has been in and out of hospitals for the past year, and each time she goes back in there is that nagging fear that she may not come out. Granny’s passing was devastating because she was one of the sweetest and cheeriest ladies I’d ever met, always reminding me that I was perfect just the way I am, despite any negative feedback I’d get from aunties and lolas.
Miguel’s dad’s death maybe hit me hardest, not because I knew him well, but because I know Miguel so well. He, his wife Erlina and I have been friends since journalism school. They are one of those couples whose love for each other shines but doesn’t blind you. They never make you feel uncomfortable or lonely.
I know Miguel’s dad was an amazing man because Miguel is so amazing. I got a glimpse of his character when he delivered an eloquent and touching speech at miguel and erlina’s wedding. He sent everyone sobbing, and I am sure his death has had that effect a million times over.
When I thought about the profound effect his absence would have on his family, I sobbed, too.